


SWSH Drabbles & Requests

by sleepingaway



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series), Pocket Monsters: Sword & Shield | Pokemon Sword & Shield Versions
Genre: Age Difference, Blow Jobs, Cunnilingus, Deepthroating, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Hair-pulling, Multi, Other, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Reader-Insert, Semi-Public Sex, Smut, Spooning, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, when reader is the champion they are an adult do not worry lmao
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-10
Updated: 2020-08-18
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:27:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24636046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleepingaway/pseuds/sleepingaway
Summary: This is a collection of various SWSH drabbles, smutty and otherwise, taken from my tumblr, sleepawaywriting. Sword & Shield has an unholy amount of attractive characters and I'm thirsty as hell, so enjoy! Tags will be updated as more chapters are added in the future!
Relationships: Kabu (Pokemon)/Reader, Nezu | Piers (Pokemon)/Reader
Comments: 4
Kudos: 145





	1. Man of Fire (Kabu, NSFW)

In hindsight, he should have seen this coming.

It began a few days ago, on a rare morning you managed to convince the Gym Leader to sleep in with you. These were the mornings you loved most—when cozy sunlight filtered through the blinds, with your small, fuzzy Growlithe curling up at your back, and his beautiful Ninetails stationed at her usual, protective spot just off the foot of the bed, watching over the two of you with her chin resting on the edge of the mattress. You were snuggled up against him, face nestled into the crook of his neck as you absentmindedly traced patterns over his broad chest. One of his arms was wrapped loosely around your back, drawing you close, gently rubbing a thumb over your bicep. You had asked him about his past, as you tended to do during quiet, intimate moments, and the conversation quickly turned salacious, as they tended to do with you. He relayed a story about when he first moved to Galar, when he was rising the ranks of the gym circuit, and quickly on his way to becoming a Gym Leader. You managed to coax a confession out of him, and reluctantly, he admitted that before he was an official Gym Leader, he used to “fool around”, as he put it, in some of the more secluded areas of the sprawling stadium that was Motostoke Gym. He sheepishly admitted that he was much more reckless back then, and something about the risk of being caught, of having his pristine reputation ruined, thrilled him to bits, especially right before a match.

You cherished these moments, where the gym leader relinquished his normally guarded, modest exterior and shared his more mischievous, fun-loving side. He was by no means a blushing virgin, but he tended to be more reserved in matters of intimacy due to your difference in age. He made it clear early-on in your relationship that he prioritized your comfort, and often wished for you to take the lead. He quickly learned, however, that you were anything but timid or naive in the bedroom, and despite quelling his fears, you managed to instill a new, thrilling, nostalgic sort of feeling inside him with your passion and spontaneity. Similar to the feeling he described in his story, which he all too quickly concluded with the fact that he ceased any sort of risky activity after becoming Gym Leader, not wanting to tarnish the reputation of Motostoke’s prestigious gym. You chuckled against him, your breath tickling his skin, before looking up at him with sparkling eyes.

“Would you ever consider possibly… doing something like that again?” you asked, all-too-innocently (he knew better by now).

He thought for a moment, his brow furrowing ever-so-slightly. You couldn’t help but find his perpetually-serious expression endearing.

“It depends… there are a lot of factors to consider. I would most likely be too nervous,” he looked to the side, conflicted, then back to you, “but with you… maybe I’d have the nerve, again.”  
You smiled gently, leaning up to plant a warm kiss on his lips. Little did he know that his words lit a match, and a plot was now brewing in your mind.

It wasn’t uncommon for you to visit him right before a match, especially when facing off against one of the other Gym Leaders, usually to deliver some words of encouragement and a kiss for good luck. But this time—when your kiss involved pressing him up against one of the walls of the locker room, your body flush against his, eager hands sliding up his firm torso to cup his face and lace your fingers through silver locks, and an even more eager tongue already vying for his own—he knew he was in for it. He was often called the “Man of Fire” for obvious reasons, but in this moment, he felt like he could melt under you searing attention.

His heartbeat increased by a few decibels, and before he could properly reciprocate your advances, you broke away, a light flush setting in your cheeks and a determined gleam in your eyes. His expression must have been silly, he thought, somewhere between shocked and reluctantly aroused, because you gave him a humored smile before taking a cursory glance over your shoulders and around the locker room. You deemed the area safe enough, and in a flash, kneeled before him, pulling the waistband of his shorts down in the process.

By the time he managed to mutter a few confused syllables, you were already planting sweet kisses up his wonderfully toned thighs, punctuated by soft bites and light sweeps of your tongue that made his brain short-circuit. The sensitive skin of his inner thighs tingled under your hot breath and fervent lips, and any sound of protest immediately died in his throat when you began palming the growing erection beneath the soft fabric of his boxer shorts. Between the pre-match adrenaline and the thrill of being so exposed, it took no time at all for him to grow hard and aching under your capable hands.

Releasing him from the confines of his shorts, you held his wanting cock in one hand, warm, flushed, and oh-so-inviting, while the other gave his hip a reassuring squeeze. You began teasing him with gentle licks and kisses at the tip while giving the rest of his length some generous pumps. He was completely mesmerized with the way your mouth moved against him, the way your doe-eyes would gaze up at him under those long lashes, before the gravity of the situation crashed down on him. He leaned down slightly, placing a firm hand on your shoulder.

“What are you _doing_?” he asked desperately, his mouth finally catching up with his brain, voice barely above a whisper. It was a dumb question, he thought, it was obvious what you were doing—it was more to grab your attention than anything. You paused your ministrations, looking up at him with the sweetest expression.

“Do you want me to stop?” You asked softly, eyes laced with genuine concern. Perhaps you finally pushed him too far with your spur-of-the-moment tendencies, you thought.  
He took a deep breath, steadying his nerves, before meeting your eyes—the hand on your shoulder tensing slightly.

“No,” he stated, the seriousness in his expression making you internally shudder, “Keep going."

The urgent tone in his voice told you that it wasn’t a request, and you were more than happy to comply. The man you knew in the bedroom was slowly making himself known, and you felt your stomach flip with excitement. He was interesting, in that way. There was always a low-level intensity about him, bubbling just beneath the surface in any normal situation, but in times of conflict, or in this case, passion, his demeanor shifted in the most alluring way that brought out the more submissive side of you. He was a steady flame, at times burning bright, and at other times barely flickering, but always present, while you were more of a series of fireworks, popping, colorful, and sometimes jarring, yet the two of you managed to fit together nicely.

Your proclivity towards teasing was tossed to the wayside, and with practiced ease, you managed to swallow the entirety of his length in one smooth motion. He stifled a gasp as you took him, your impatient mouth engulfing him completely, and the warmth radiating from inside you was almost unbearable, but in the best possible way. You stalled for a moment to enjoy the feeling of fullness his cock provided you, it was the perfect length, perfect for you to take completely, just past the point of comfort, but not nearly enough to make you start choking. You dared to take him further, nose pressing against the neat thatch of hair just above his pubic bone, and he exhaled deeply through his nose, trying to maintain some semblance of composure as you expertly pulled him apart. You swallowed around him, and he bit back a groan, drawing a hand through his mussed hair as liquid fire coursed through his veins, his lower abdomen already beginning to tighten despite the fact that you _just_ started sucking him off. He couldn’t help it, he hadn’t been this thoroughly riled up in ages, and it felt so fucking _good_ that when you swallowed again, he couldn’t help but throw his head back, pressing against the wall, hips twitching in a desperate attempt to get you to _move_ , do _more_ , _please_.

As if reading his mind, you finally began at a steady pace, the flat of your tongue pressing snug against the underside of his cock as your lips created a perfectly tight seal around his shaft. You breathed a quiet moan as you felt him throb inside of you, a wonderfully addicting sensation in itself, and felt your arousal pooling between your legs, spurred on by your lover carding calloused fingers through your hair, trimmed nails gently drawing along your scalp.

You drew your hands up his thighs and around his hips, and the Gym Leader practically yelped as you grabbed either side of his firm ass, giving a loving squeeze as you increased your pace, drawing him further into you. The hand on your head tensed and his fingers curled, grabbing more of your hair and giving a firm tug, making you moan involuntarily, and the vibrations of your voice alone almost sent him over the edge. He pulled you even closer, not enough to hurt ( _never_ enough to hurt, he was always so careful with you), but enough to send a clear message: _hurry up, get me off, now._

At this point, your eyes were stinging, you were almost out of breath, and your jaw muscles were begging for a reprieve, but you didn’t care. If it were up to you, and he didn’t have to be on the pitch in five minutes, you would have jumped his bones by now. It would be so _easy_ , you thought, to stand and remove your undergarments in one sweep, to switch places with your partner, to have him press you firmly against the wall, bringing one of your legs around his waist, feeling his throbbing cock, already wet and dripping from your mouth, right up against your sensitive heat—he wasn’t very tall, which would make his first thrust inside of you all the easier, just fucking you ceaselessly up against the wall of the locker room. The mental image forced a needy moan out of you, feeling yourself begin to swell between your legs.

You gave him one final tug, swallowing around him with all the gusto you had left, and he gasped, muffling any noise with the back of his hand as he spilled down your throat. He shuddered, every nerve in his body screaming with white-hot pleasure, riding out his much-needed orgasm in the welcoming embrace of your mouth. You swallowed every drop, almost embarrassed by how much you appreciated the taste of his cum, something you would never fully admit to the man, despite how shameless you could be at times. Finally releasing him, you leaned back to catch your breath, wiping any excess saliva off your chin with the back of your hand.

Looking up at your lover, your heart swelled with adoration at the completely blissed-out expression on his face, eyes closed and body leaning back against the wall for support. You chuckled quietly to yourself as you stood, catching his attention, and without warning, you were pulled towards him, strong arms wrapping around your waist and your chest flush against his as he kissed you tenderly. Between the heat radiating off his body in the afterglow and his soft kisses, you were beginning to feel dizzy, before he broke away from your lips and pressed his forehead to yours, breathing in your presence.

You smiled at him, finding his cuddliness adorable, “Not to ruin the moment or anything,” you started, “but don’t you have an exhibition match in like thirty seconds?”

His eyes snapped open, “Right,” he cleared his throat, releasing you to pull his shorts back on. You couldn’t help but laugh, reaching out to smooth down his hair and straighten his collar. He thanked you quietly as he got situated, and the two of you began to leave the locker room, grabbing his partners—safely resting in their pokeballs—on the way out.

“Thank you,” he began, almost bashfully, “That was unexpected, but it was… _very_ nice.”

You chuckled, grabbing his hand and giving it a squeeze, “Any time, darling,” you leaned in to give him one last, chaste kiss, “I love you.”

“I love you too. Truly,” he replied, lingering just a bit longer before turning to head to the pitch. Seizing the opportunity, you gave him a playful swat on the ass, “Go get ‘em, tiger!” you cheered, laughing at the way he jolted in surprise. He gave you one last glance before he turned a corner, a light blush dusting his cheeks. Yeah, he really should have seen that coming.

What he _didn’t_ see coming, however, was his record-setting success when facing off against the Champion Leon. He had managed to sweep the first half of Leon’s team, something he had never been able to do before. The energy in the stadium was palpable, as every single audience member lost their collective minds over the closeness of the match—including yourself. In the midst of the action, Kabu managed to get a glimpse of you in the front row, sitting next to Raihan, gabbing each other by the shoulder and shaking the other with excitement. He could tell you were cheering by your expression, which helped give him a boost of confidence before sending out his final pokemon. While it was expected for the Champion’s Charizard to inevitably defeat Kabu’s Sizzlipede, that didn’t stop the audience from leaping out of their seats at the final blow, chanting the Motostoke leader’s name despite his loss. Kabu couldn’t help but feel a sort of youthful giddiness at the overwhelming amount of praise, and one of the Rotom drones managed to capture a smile breaking out over his typically serious features.

“Kabu, that was _insane_ , mate!” Leon cheered as he approached the Gym Leader, “You really had me sweating bullets for a second!”

“Indeed, that was an incredible battle!” Kabu replied, smiling warmly up at Leon, “Thank you, Champion.”

“Any time! Just uh… give me a warning next time you decide to obliterate most of my team,” Leon laughed, “I don’t think the poor guys were prepared for that kind of action.”

As soon as you saw the two trainers shaking hands on the pitch, you bolted from your seat, wanting to beat the press before they inevitably found and harassed your partner. Heading towards the tunnel that lead onto the field, the two of you managed to meet in the center. You captured him in a leaping embrace, planting a powerful kiss on his lips before planting another one on his heated cheek.

“Babe, that was _amazing_!” you practically squealed, thinking you must have looked much like a raving fangirl, “How the _hell_ did you manage that?”

“I’m not sure!” The Gym Leader held you tightly, face flushed, loose strands of silver clinging to his forehead from the heat of a typical Motostoke Gym battle. It was a good look, you thought.

“I suppose, I just felt… more at ease, this time,” he said, pausing momentarily, before a wave of realization hit him like a bullet train.

Simultaneously, as if on cue, you commented, “So you could say that _getting_ head might’ve _cleared_ your head?” You gave him an impish smile, and he practically sputtered, giving you a familiar, slightly exasperated look, before his features softened.

He sighed, hands resting on your hips, “In a _word_ , yes. Maybe that’s something we should do more often.”

You snorted, before he quickly added, “However! Please… give me some warning next time. I don’t think my heart can take another surprise like that.”

“Pfft… whatever you say, old man,” you teased, bringing him in for another gentle kiss.

You were about to make another retort, before the hands on your hips swiftly lowered to cup your ass. You squeaked as your hips were pressed flush against his own, forcing you to remember how painfully horny you still were.

“Since you were so kind to help me before,” he started, face close to your ear, allowing his breath to drip hotly across your neck, voice low and laced with gravel, “Perhaps I should properly thank you?”

Oh _boy_ , you were in for it.


	2. Mornings, Part I (Piers, NSFW)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> okay so this is half domestic headcanons, half unadulterated horniness. i love the goth boy okay I JUST WANT HIM TO GET SOME SLEEP.

You learn a lot about a person by sleeping with them. In your case, literally. Sleeping next to someone can be an exercise in trust, as it can be extremely vulnerable, and potentially disastrous. After all, you never know who you truly are while asleep until someone is there to bear witness. You could see everything: their nightly routine, their little habits and quirks. What did they prefer to wear, if they wore anything at all? How did they wind down? How did they get comfortable? Did they read? Listen to music? Did they prefer one pillow, or two, or ten? Did they surround themselves in a cocoon of blankets, or sleep completely uncovered, mocking the monsters under the bed? Did they stir at the slightest disturbance, or could they sleep through the end of the world? Were they restless in their slumber, or still as the grave? Did they snore? Did they talk? Did they steal blankets in the night, or did they cling to their partners? You personally found all of these details fascinating. It was as if the other person was sharing a special part of themselves, a part not too often seen by others.

You especially appreciated it now, as you dozed in-and-out of consciousness on a warm, cozy Sunday morning, lying entangled in the slender arms of your loving boyfriend. Your mind tended to wander on mornings like this, when you had no duties, no obligations, and could simply bask in the comforting presence of your slumbering musician. You thought it was funny, how you personally had very little change in your own sleeping habits since dating the ex-Gym Leader, despite your newly-inherited responsibilities as the Champion of Galar. Piers, on the other hand, had gone through an entire circadian metamorphosis since the two of you became intimate. Before you had moved into his flat in Spikemuth—a _shocking_ and borderline _scandalous_ development in your relationship, as far as the tabloids were concerned (you rarely paid them too much mind)—and before he had stepped down as Spikemuth’s Gym Leader, you were amazed if he managed to sleep more than four hours a night. You had an idea of how rarely he slept before you started dating—after all, why else would he send you texts in the dead of night and wee hours of the morning? But it wasn’t until after the two of you began sleeping together that you fully understood the extent of Piers’ problems. He had insomnia, that much was clear, and tended to become restless in the hours that you normally retired to bed. He claimed that all of his best ideas came to him late in the night, and would spend hours scribbling in his trusty journal while you cluelessly snoozed away next to him. Upon discovering this, you felt somewhat guilty, but he assuaged your worries by waxing poetic about how your soothing presence provided him with endless inspiration—that even while asleep, you helped organize his frenzied, haphazard thoughts long enough to translate them into song (and no matter how many times he admitted it, hearing how much you effected his music never failed to make you blush like a starstruck teen).

After moving in together, and as your domestic routines began to blend, so did your sleeping habits. It was surprisingly easy to get Piers into bed with you, you discovered. You simply had to tip-toe down to his basement studio and subdue him with a gentle kiss to the neck, along with some soft words teasing the shell of his ear. Though your schedules were not entirely in sync, as you had _very_ different jobs, your sleepless songbird was finally getting some well-deserved rest. Gone were the mornings spent opening Spikemuth’s Gym, and spending most of the day prepping Gym Trainers, training Pokemon, and fighting rambunctious, overly-confident Gym Challengers, who often underestimated the rockstar’s abilities, much to your frustration. Now that he was a full-time musician, his workday didn't begin until late into the afternoon, and his concerts would often go late into the night. During your busiest times, when your Champion duties required you to be up at sunrise, you would have to bow out early most nights, feeling guilty when you could only support your boyfriend’s gigs about half of the time. Of course, in typical Piers fashion, he was endlessly understanding, and there was nothing quite as sweet as the feeling of going to bed alone, only to wake up and find him exhaustedly cuddled up next you, face buried into your chest or the small of your back (along with your menagerie of Pokemon, which, due to many of them being simultaneously competitive _and_ cuddly, the two of you had to make a schedule for which Pokemon got to share the bed on certain nights).

You never expected Piers to be such a massive cuddler, but you very much welcomed it. At the beginning of your relationship, you suspected that Piers was averse to touch, as he tended to tense or not entirely reciprocate when you first began kissing or embracing him. You soon discovered that this was _far_ from the truth, and that the poor guy simply wasn’t used to the type of affection you so enthusiastically showered upon him. Once the two of you lived together, it became increasingly obvious that he adored and craved your touch, often snuggling up against you and draping his arms around you when asleep. You also learned, that despite having trouble falling asleep, once Piers was securely in dreamland, it was almost impossible to wake him. On most mornings, escaping his Bewear-like grasp was your first Champion challenge of the day.  On top of being a heavy sleeper, he was also a heavy sleep- _talker_. This rarely bothered you, in fact, you enjoyed having full conversations with him while he was none the wiser, with topics ranging from Marnie’s homework, Obstagoon’s yearly PokeCenter check-up, scheduling future gigs (he often mistook you for his manager in his sleep-addled stupor), and other silly, mundane things. He never remembered any of it, no matter how much you tried to jog his memory (he once mumbled out an imaginary itinerary for your future wedding—you never told him this, but it was a secret you held near and dear to your heart). There were many mornings where you would lie next to him, mindlessly scrolling through your phone or checking your emails, only for him to jolt half-awake, ask you, groggily, to write something down (usually an idea for a song), then immediately plop back down onto his pillow, snoring comically. 

Those mornings were much like this one: quiet, unassuming—where you would debate for several minutes on whether you were gracious enough to let him sleep in, or impatient enough to wake him. You weren’t exactly in a hurry to get out of bed, as this was one of your rare days off, and the warmth radiating from Piers’ body, the welcoming scent of his lingering cologne, and the light pitter-patter of rain on the roof of the massive structure overhanging Spikemuth was enough to tempt you back into sleep. Your head rested under your boyfriend’s chin, your face close to the base of his neck, and you gently brought one hand up to trace a finger along the smooth metal of his collar, which he rarely removed. You weren’t sure if it was because he never wanted to, or if he simply forgot it was there, and either sounded like him, if you were being honest. Yawning quietly, you nudged your head back, wanting to get a better view of Piers’ sleeping face. Your bedroom happened to have a window facing the outside of Spikemuth’s container, allowing the diffused morning light to bathe your room in an overcast veil. He seemed to be sleeping soundly, despite his perpetually-grumpy expression still present, if somewhat more relaxed. You smiled to yourself, remembering when you first admitted to him, early in your friendship, that you assumed he hated you because of how he always seemed to look annoyed around you. _“Hate to break it to ya, love, but that’s just my face,”_ he said then, making you feel embarrassed for assuming the worst about him, but also somewhat flustered that he referred to you as “love”. Back then, you wanted to write it off as one of his many Spikemuth-isms—that perhaps it was just a more casual nickname where he was from—but here you were, proven wrong.

Sighing softly, you looked over his sleeping form, admiring the way the stormy glow highlighted his features. You had always found him both incredibly adorable and handsome, despite the things he would say about himself in hushed tones on his worst days. His large, sad blue eyes, though closed for now, paired nicely with his high cheek bones and dark, striking eyebrows. You drew the tip of your index finger down the bridge of his nose, slightly crooked from the handful of times he had broken it in his youth, through back-alley scuffles and far-too-wild concerts. You tried not to giggle when the muscles in his face twitched as you reached the tip, giving it an extra _boop_ for good measure. And, of course, you loved his mouth, the way his lips felt so soft and inviting against your own, the way they curled into the most adorable little smiles. The way they felt against your skin, at your wrists, the dip of your neck, across your shoulders, between your breasts, down your stomach, flush against your sensitive, needy heat, along with his overly-generous tongue. 

Oh.

Suddenly and without warning, you _really_ wanted him. Biting your lip, you didn’t wish to disturb the musician’s peaceful slumber, nor did you want him to spend the energy on reciprocating, which you knew he would insist upon (it was difficult to get him to be the _least_ bit selfish about his own pleasure). Not to mention, you were still fairly groggy yourself, but you were equally as longing for your boyfriend, and the way his body would react to your loving, methodical touches, the way his beautiful voice would sound upon waking up in the throes of pleasure. Then, you remembered something. It was an idea the two of you had discussed before, whispers of heated fantasies in the dead of night, something that you had been waiting to act upon, but only at the right time, when it would truly be a surprise. Well, now was as good a time as any, you thought, smiling mischievously to yourself.

Ever-so-slowly, you wriggled out of Piers’ all-encompassing grasp, trying desperately not to laugh at how ridiculous you looked—arms firmly pressed to your sides, legs squeezed together, shifting yourself to-and-fro like a newly-hatched Caterpie. Once free, you sat up on your knees, careful to not shake the bed with your movements. Next came the difficult part, you thought, as he was on his side, and you needed him to be on his back for your plan to work. Placing one hand gently on his shoulder, and the other on his hip, you subtly began nudging him onto his back. You almost startled when he suddenly moved, shifting onto his back of his own accord. You winced internally, fully prepared for him to stir awake and be reasonably confused as to why you were leaning over him, but he quickly settled back into sleep, completely oblivious to the waking world. You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, smiling at the silly, dramatic, sprawled-out position you boyfriend had assumed.

Carefully, you straddled his waist, making sure to place most of your weight onto your knees. Since the weather was getting warmer, even in the rainy, coastal town of Spikemuth, the both of you were sparsely clothed, with Piers completely bare, save for a thin pair of briefs. Looking him over, you watched the slow rise-and-fall of his chest, and admired the way his long, thick, two-toned hair cascaded down his pillow, descending into rivulets of stark white and midnight black against your bedsheets. He had just showered the previous night, which meant it was extra soft and fluffy, and just messy enough to make him look even more attractive, without risk of becoming a tangled mess. From your angle, you took the time to appreciate his slender frame, which you found endlessly attractive. You loved everything about him, from his prominent collarbones, to his flat chest, to the slight indents of his ribcage traveling down to the smooth plane of his abdomen, punctuated by his sharp hip bones. It took everything in you to not draw your hands up his torso, feeling every muscle and the occasional edge of bone beneath your eager touch. You frowned slightly, remembering how he would occasionally jab at himself, stating that he looked like a skeleton or a walking corpse at times. Though you knew he was joking, at least for the most part, you were adamant on reminding him just how much you adored his body, which was something that simultaneously baffled and flattered him. Your effortless and brutally honest compliments never failed to turn him sheepish, avoiding your gaze and hiding his warm cheeks behind his long, thick bangs. And you would keep reminding him, again and again, that he was plenty attractive, even if you needed to give him a a few more hands-on demonstrations to prove it, which you were _more_ than happy to provide.

Taking a deep breath, you leaned over him, slowly placing your hands on either side of his head. Leaning down, you simply couldn’t resist brushing your lips against his own, just the softest, feather-light touch, holding yourself back from diving in and kissing him blissfully awake. Moving down, you grazed your lips across his neck, planting a gentle kiss at the base, right beneath his choker, noting the faint, yet sharp scent of leftover hair product, and the smooth, silky scent of mild soap. You left a trail of soft kisses across his collarbone, smiling into his skin as you noticed goosebumps appearing at your touch, then moved down to his chest, leaving a few kisses over his sternum before boldly swiping your tongue over one of his nipples. He flinched, and you looked up at his face, fearing the worst, but he simply turned his head to the side and settled back into sleep, breathing deeply. You could have imagined it, but you thought his cheeks took on a slightly rosy tint, contrasting with his normally pale complexion.

Continuing your journey downward, you lavished his soft belly with loving kisses and the occasional warm, gentle sweep of your tongue. Reaching the top of his hips, you nuzzled the soft, dark hair trailing down from his navel into the waistband of his briefs, before shifting your body down between his knees. You gingerly spread his thighs apart with your fingertips, lying down onto your stomach and slowly shimmying yourself forward, fitting comfortably between his long legs. Kissing up his soft inner thighs, you began to apply more pressure, teasing the sensitive skin with the edges of your teeth. You journeyed further upward, sucking on a particularly sensitive patch of skin that made his legs twitch beneath you. Hearing him exhale, you looked up, noticing as his breathing became slightly more labored. With a satisfied grin, you reached up with one hand, lightly palming the growing bulge beneath the soft fabric of his briefs. You _adored_ the way Piers’ body reacted to even the slightest, most teasing touches, and the fact that you could make him feel so good so _easily_ was a massive turn-on. It certainly helped boost your confidence—not to mention, seeing the handsome musician thoroughly enjoy himself never failed to make you weak in the knees.

It only took a few moments for your boyfriend to grow hard and wanting beneath your ministrations. You released him from his briefs, taking a moment to admire his cock in all its unapologetic glory. You suddenly remembered his reaction to you the first time you saw it. You must have been making some kind of face, because he immediately interjected with, _“It’s not_ that _big, is it?”_ , to which you replied, _“Oh, ‘It’s not_ that _big, is it?’,”_ playfully mocking his accent for good measure, _“Mr. Humble over here with ‘It’s not_ that _big’. Seriously?”_ you smiled and rolled your eyes as your boyfriend laughed. You then told him it was pretty, which made him laugh even harder, but you were being completely serious. It was big, as in long, but not too girthy, and as pale as he was, save for the last half, which was flushed pink (it was actually quite similar to the rest of him, now that you thought about it). It also never failed to make you feel so full and satisfied, hitting all the spots inside of you that made you whimper and squirm. You wanted to be re-acquainted, preferably soon, but for now, you had other plans.

You decided to tease him a little more before fully indulging yourself, drawing the soft pad of your index finger up the underside of his shaft before circling it around the tip, taking your sweet time to feel every dip and curve. His breathing grew heavier, and now you could see that his cheeks were fully flushed, his brow tensing slightly as you all but tickled his aching cock. Licking a stripe up your hand, you gently wrapped it around him, keeping your grip loose enough as to not overwhelm his senses right away. Stroking him slowly, you lavished the rest with gentle kisses, reveling in the way his hips twitched and his breath stuttered once you began swirling your tongue around the tip. He was so _warm_ , and you felt him throb beneath your hand, his hips practically jolting in place when you gave the tip a generous squeeze. You briefly wondered if he was dreaming, and if so, if he was dreaming about you.

Watching, enamored, as the tip began to leak clear pre-cum, you felt a hunger welling up deep within your chest and between your legs. You slowly began to take him into your mouth, securely holding his hips down in case he unconsciously thrusted up inside of you (though you weren’t opposed to the idea, you didn’t want him to wake up to the sound of you gagging). You took him down about half way, before delaying his gratification by withdrawing and, again, swirling your tongue around the tip. His entire body shifted this time, a soft, tired, breathless moan escaping his lips, sending a sharp pang of arousal deep into your lower belly. Your brain grew foggy, a wave of lust and adoration clouding your thoughts as you took him all the way, brow furrowed in concentration, wrangling in your gag reflex once the tip hit the back of your throat. He moaned again, and if it wasn’t the most _beautiful_ , erotic sound. His voice was already gorgeous under normal circumstances, but especially in the morning, when it was tinged with the slightest bit of gravel and honey-like richness. It made you feel hopelessly needy, your own arousal, slick and hot, pooling between your thighs.

You continued with the same action, slowly taking him until he hit the back of your throat, then withdrawing, listening intently to the way his moans became more haggard and desperate—until about the fifth time, when you pulled him in completely, daring to swallow around him and practically choke yourself on his cock. You heard him gasp, a startled moan escaping him as you felt a hand grip the back of your head. _Well, good morning,_ you thought, trying not to smile or laugh with a cock stuffed halfway down your throat. You drew up off of him, your eyes connecting with his sparkling blue ones, his pupils blown wide, noting how his adorable flush had spread up to his ears and down his neck. Before he could say anything, you took him again, setting a more intense pace now that he was awake.

“ _Fuck_ —,” he groaned loudly, hips stuttering as he carded his long, slender fingers through your hair, his other hand clinging to the one holding his hip. You laced your fingers through his own as you drew up off of him again, sucking on the tip almost obscenely before licking a firm stripe up the underside of his shaft.

“So _good_ , love,” he praised, shuddering as he threw his head back onto the pillows, taking a handful of your hair and tugging slightly. Pulling him back into the slick heat of your mouth, you moaned around him, his breathless praise making your heart flutter. Feeling him throb inside of you, you moaned again, breathing out through your nose, before bracing yourself and taking him as far as you could go, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. He practically convulsed, making a delicious choked, startled noise when you felt him spill down your throat—hot, musky, and not entirely unpleasant. He held your head firm to him as he rode out his orgasm, a string of curses, praises, and broken moans leaving his exhausted body, before you tapped him twice on the hip, indicating that you needed to breathe.

“Ah, sorry—!” he startled, releasing you as you practically gasped for air, settling back onto your knees. He leaned up, reaching out to cradle your face with one hand, drawing a thumb along your cheekbone before hooking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. His gentle touch made you shudder, closing your eyes as you steadied your breathing. Upon hearing your name, you opened them again, your heart swelling at your boyfriend’s tired gaze and dopey, lovestruck grin.

“I… I just—,” he started, stumbling over his syllables, drawing a hand back through his messy hair, “You— you’re so— ah, fuck it,” he gave up on words and decided to just pull you up into his lap instead. You laid on top of him, chest flush against his own as he drew you into a lazy, tender kiss, and you couldn’t help but hum at the way he slid his tongue lovingly between your lips. Cradling your chin, he broke the kiss, staring deep into your eyes.

“I love you,” he practically whispered, and you felt your face heat under his intense gaze. Suddenly feeling shy, despite the filthy things you just did to him, you hid your face into the crook of his neck.

“I… I love you too,” you squeaked. He chuckled, wrapping his arms around you, and you could feel the vibrations of his voice beneath your flushed cheeks. 

Sighing, you settled into him, listening to the rain and breathing in his warm scent as he came down from his high. You had almost dozed off again when he suddenly spoke.

“Ya know, if ya want me to do somethin’ for ya, I could—“

“Not right now,” you hummed, pressing a soft kiss to his neck, “Can we just stay like this, for a while?”

“Of course,” he replied, voice gentle and smooth as silk. He felt you smile against him, before you yawned dramatically, nuzzling further into him. He began tracing soothing circles into your back, sending tingles down your spine, and you quickly fell asleep to the sound of his breathing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, requests are being taken over on my tumblr, sleepawaywriting! also, let me know if you'd like me to have any sort of specific content warnings at the beginning of future chapters!


	3. Mornings, Part II (Piers, NSFW)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I was actually planning on finishing a different chapter before this one, but the surge of love for Piers from his 3 second cameo in the Twilight Wings finale inspired me to finish this first, so enjoy! I might've gone a little overboard on this one lmaooo.

A deep bass throbbed beneath your feet, thrumming up your legs, through your bones, and resonating within your chest. An indigo-tinged darkness bathed your surroundings, a forest of nondescript figures with blurred faces limiting your movement, and in front of you, raised on an invisible stage, was your boyfriend and his band, backlit by a constellation of stark white, neon violet, and hot pink—the colors undulating to and fro like luminescent inkblots. Everything felt too out of focus, your senses phasing in and out like a radio signal in a storm. You almost felt intoxicated, but surely you would have remembered drinking? The music sounded too warbled for your liking, so you closed your eyes, zeroing in on your boyfriend’s distinct voice, his siren song sweeping through your eardrums, swirling around your disoriented mind, suffusing your senses with warmth and familiarity.

Opening your eyes, you were suddenly being pressed against a brick wall. Where were you? A nearby alley? Wait, wasn’t there a concert going on? But your thoughts were put on hold, because Piers was right there, entire body flush against yours, face mere inches from your own. He was fully clothed, but the heat radiating from his body amorously dripped down onto your own, seeping into your skin, as if both of you were completely naked. His face moved down to your neck—arms caging you in—and you felt the tickle of his long, silky hair at your collar and across your shoulders. You wanted to say something like, _“Piers, we can’t do this here,”_ but he was already kissing slowly down the smooth column of your throat, sucking sharply at the junction of your neck and shoulder. You exhaled in a shudder as he moved down to your collar, and your stomach flipped at the possibility of being caught like this, but your jaw was sealed shut by some magical force, your tongue caged hopelessly behind your teeth. Suddenly, the top half of your body was bare, exposed to the chilled nighttime air and dim light of the alleyway, but any confusion you felt was overrun by desire as the musician began to caress you chest.

The first inklings of heat pooled between your legs, which, like the rest of your body, was chained back against the wall by an unseen force. You were at the complete mercy of the singer working his tantalizing lips and searing tongue over your flushed skin, leaving a trail of faint, rosy marks in his wake, pulling you apart bit by agonizing bit. You couldn’t see much, not that you could move your head to begin with, but you felt his bangs brush across your sternum, hot breath tickling your goosebump-laden skin. You felt his tongue encircle one of your nipples, slow and teasing, before capturing it in his mouth and sucking salaciously. Your breath hitched, his mouth sending a pang of arousal deep into your lower belly, a sweet gush of warmth permeating your gradually soaking heat. You felt him smirk before continuing his ministrations, alternating between persistently sucking on one nipple, and gently playing with the other between his thumb and forefinger. You couldn’t stand it, not being able to look at him, not being able to run your fingers through his thick, two-toned locks, not being able to tell him how good he was, how you so desperately needed more. You writhed slowly when he switched sides, an image painting itself in your mind—he was staring up at you, under long lashes and sharp eyebrows, his striking blue eyes—rimmed with faded charcoal—gleaming with lust and mischief. His mouth against your breasts, wet, hot, and so inviting, made your mind wander to other parts of your body, parts where the press of his lips and sweep of his tongue would work you over so sinfully, shattering any semblance of composure as you devolved into an absolute wanton mess. A gentle bite around your nipple drew you from your thoughts, gasping against the delicious sensation. Drawing away, he replaced his mouth with his other hand, squeezing your breasts together and playfully encircling each nipple with the pad of his thumb.

“ _Always_ so sensitive here, love,” he purred, voice muffled and too far away, yet still dripping with unbridled arousal, “Wonder if I can make you come just by doin’ this,” he mused, pressing against your flushed nipples for emphasis.

If you had a voice you would keen, whimpering like the hopelessly needy thing you were, but instead you could only sigh, arching into his touch with what little strength you had. You gasped when he gave your nipples a loving pinch, chuckling lowly, the rich, melodious sound shooting straight to your dripping pussy, aching and clenching fruitlessly around, well, _nothing_. Gods, you suddenly felt so empty. Another image manifested itself in your haze, of him pressing you further against the wall, wrapping your legs around his waist, burying himself inside of you to the hilt with a husky groan, and pounding into you with wreckless abandon, not caring if anyone heard or saw the two of you in such a compromising position. Would he even stop, if you were caught? The thought made heat bloom in your cheeks and spread down your neck, imagining your chaotic, fearless rockstar making it clear to whomever stumbled upon you that only _he_ could make you, the literal Champion, fall apart so beautifully. You were drawn from your fantasy by the feeling of Piers’ lips traveling down your stomach. He paused to nuzzle your soft belly, humming in appreciation as he squeezed your supple hips, the tender gesture making your heart melt. You deeply cherished the way he made every single part of you feel so attractive, so loved.

You sensed him kneel down, feeling your legs being shouldered further apart, and the rest of your clothing seemed to make itself scarce. You barely had time to dwell on how impossible that was, because the next thing you felt was your boyfriend’s breath tickling the course hair between your legs, the gentle suggestion of what was to come making your clit throb. Softly, so softly, he drew his thumb up the length of your heat, not nearly close enough to give you the sweet contact you needed.

“Hmm… so wet already, love,” he hummed, “Y’ such a good girl.”

You wanted to moan, but you could only exhale in a lustful huff. He chuckled again, his voice utterly intoxicating, and several moments passed thereafter—no sound or movement to ease the tension in your gut. You were holding your breath in anticipation, when _finally_ , he moved, but instead of diving into your aching pussy, like you so desired, he moved back, clearly wishing to torture you just a bit more before indulging your wishes. Nuzzling into your plush inner thigh, he released an affectionate sigh, his breath fanning along your skin, igniting your nerves. Legs tensing around his shoulders, you felt his lashes graze flirtatiously against your thigh, before he moved upwards, kissing and nibbling on the delicate skin all while his hands roamed and massaged the outside of your thighs, reaching around and giving your ass a sultry squeeze. When he reached the space between your thigh and groin, he sucked harshly on the tender area, drawing out a breathless whine from your throat, and before he moved any further, any closer, he retreated again, repeating his smothering affections up your opposite thigh. You were panting by the time he reached your groin again, or whatever the approximation of panting was in your paralyzed state, and to your utter delight and horror, he denied you yet again, drawing back to tease both of your sensitive thighs once more. By now, you felt your heartbeat pulsing between your legs, despite the fact that he had barely given that area any attention. You wanted nothing more than to grab a fistful of his thick, beautiful hair and shove his face into your eager cunt, and you knew for a _fact_ that the handsome bastard would love nothing more. He enjoyed doing this sort of thing to you, drawing you to the absolute brink of neediness and desperation, always ever-so-patient and frustratingly thorough to the point where you were practically begging for release.

Your hips were trembling by the time he reached your upper thigh again, mere inches from where you needed him most. Something within you gave way then, allowing you to cut through the invisible strings that wired your jaw shut. It felt as though your body was working in slow-motion, every movement like wading through glue, but you managed to make a noise.

“ _Piers_ …” you breathed his name, just a hint of a syllable, tumbling from your lips in an amorous whimper.

The wanton sound seemed to destroy his resolve, as the next thing you felt was his long, smoldering tongue flush against your sensitive heat, parting your folds with a thick stripe up the length of your pussy. A surge of warmth shuddered up your spine, and the alleyway began to melt around you, brick and mortar giving way to pillows and wrinkled sheets, the darkness absorbed by the soft golden hues of morning’s light.

You awoke with a whine into the heated atmosphere of your shared bedroom, body melting against the mattress as you carded your fingers through your boyfriend’s tousled hair. Blinking the haze from your eyes, your lids felt heavy as you gazed down at him. His bangs were hooked behind his ears to gain uninterrupted access to your pussy, exposing both of his gorgeous, tired eyes, gleaming against his beautifully flushed cheeks as they regarded you lovingly from between your thighs. You had no idea how one person could look so adorable while ravishing you so fully, and from the look he was giving you, you could tell he would be smirking if his mouth wasn’t otherwise preoccupied. Your stomach erupted in butterflies as you watched him lick another languid stripe up your dripping cunt, your head falling back against the pillows as you tugged on his scalp. He groaned against you, the sound making you shudder, the vibrations of his husky voice drawing a sigh from your throat, and you practically keened when he twirled his tongue around your clit, ending in a gentle suck that sent sparks dancing down your legs and into the soles of your feet. Everything about him was overwhelming—his mouth insufferably warm, lips impossibly soft, and tongue absolutely ravenous as he tasted every inch of you, making your toes curl. It all felt so wonderfully slick, and at this point you couldn’t who was making more of a mess. His movements were somewhat sloppy due to what you assumed was sleepiness, but the unpredictability in his actions only added to the tightness building in your hips. The pressure in your abdomen built with ferocity as you squirmed, forcing him to hold your hips down with both hands, chuckling at your eagerness.

His tongue drew more lazy circles around your pulsing clit, before sliding down and diving deep into you aching entrance as far as he could go. Your walls fluttered, body desperate for something thicker, longer, and your grip on his scalp tightened as you dug your heels into his upper back.

“ _Please_ …” you whimpered, shocked at the desperation in your own voice.

He needed no further encouragement, sliding a hand down between your thighs, slowly pressing his middle and ring fingers into your welcoming heat while planting a heated kiss to your clit. You almost came from the sensation alone, his long, nimble fingers working you open so much more beautifully than yours ever could. Groaning into you, his movements became more insistent, purposeful, moving around your clit in feverish patterns, your body jolting whenever the flat of his tongue slid across the exposed bud. The noises emitting from the two of you were obscene—the wetness of your heat providing a filthy accompaniment to your pants and moans, as he pumped his fingers deep into your pussy and borderline slurped on your clit. You gasped as he curled his fingers inside of you, your back arching up off the mattress when he pressed against your sweet spot, rocking his hand against your entrance and creating a delicious pace of varying pressures against your inner walls, your pussy squeezing around him instinctively.

“ _Piers—!_ “ you cried, losing any semblance of self control and moaning shamelessly as a coil of pleasure tightened inside of you. It was white-hot and exquisite, magnifying every little movement the singer made against and inside of you, until it snapped and released, careening you over the edge as you gasped his name at the ceiling, eyes rolling back before shutting them tight. He groaned as you pushed his head against your quivering heat, grinding against his heavenly mouth and skilled fingers, prolonging your orgasm as your thighs tensed around him. Waves of warmth shuddered through your body, starting deep within your pelvis and working out to your fingers and toes, until finally, _finally_ your body relaxed, whimpering as your boyfriend gave your oversensitive clit one last kiss, before slowly pulling his fingers from your heat. You fell limp against the mattress, your chest heaving as you steadied your breathing, head spinning as you descended from your magnificent peak.

You looked down just as he began to sit back up, his hair cascading in loosely-tangled waves down his pale shoulders, and watched, captivated, as he shamelessly licked your essence from his fingers, an impish gleam in his eyes. You squeaked and covered your face, cooling cheeks now reheating in embarrassment.

“ _Un-_ believable,” you groaned, voice muffled by the palms of your hands, “One of these days you’re going to kill me with something like that, I swear.”

He chuckled deeply, and it sounded like a song, sweet like a spoonful of honey and warm like cashmere. You felt a weight land carefully on top of you, followed by the faint whiff of spiced soap, and you lowered your hands to find your boyfriend nuzzling into your chest, gazing up at you with tired, lovestruck eyes and an adorable, lop-sided grin. Your heart fluttered. Gods, you loved him.

You smiled, cradling either side of his face in your hands and pulling him into a kiss, humming affectionately when you tasted yourself on his lips, combing your fingers back through his hair. He moaned softly when you rubbed the sweet spot at the base of his skull, and you giggled as he nibbled lazily on your lower lip. The two of you lingered for a bit, simply enjoying the closeness, before Piers broke away, yawning and burying his face back into the swell of your breasts. You smiled, yawning yourself as you soothingly played with his hair, bringing a sigh from his throat.

“You tired, love?” you asked, pressing a tiny kiss to the crown of his head.

“Mhmm,” he hummed. You felt his voice resonate against your chest.

“I can imagine…” you mused, pondering for a moment. You were still reeling from the earth-shattering orgasm he had so generously gifted you, but something was bothering you—and that something was the long, firm erection pressing insistently against your upper thigh through the musician’s briefs. Going down on you had always managed to rile Piers up, which was something you found incredibly attractive about him, but he usually wasn’t one to ignore it completely, let alone fall asleep before resolving the issue. Although, this was the first time he had done it right after waking himself up, you assumed. Perhaps giving incredible head this early in the morning had knocked the wind out of his sails.

“Babe?” you started.

“Hmm?”

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” you asked, a hint of flirtatiousness in your voice, shifting your leg ever-so-slightly to rub your thigh against him, his cock practically jumping in response to your gentle attention. Piers sighed heavily, turning his head up towards your face, not yet opening his eyes, and you smiled at the way his cheek smooshed against your skin.

“Yeah, but… ‘m real sleepy… kinda jus’ wanna nap,” he mumbled.

A soft laugh rolled through your chest, lightly jostling the musician’s head. He smiled into your skin, your joy soothing like a lullaby.

“Here,” you started, running your fingers across his scalp one last time before shifting beneath him, “Come and lie next to me, love.”

He mumbled something in response, before lazily crawling up the bed and plopping down beside you, wrapping a long arm around your waist and nuzzling into the small of your back. Biting your lip, you began slowly grinding against him, the soft curve of your ass making his cock twitch. He groaned, pulling you closer and grinding up into you in kind, the friction utterly delicious and tempting.

“We can do it like this, nice and slow, if you want” you hummed, your voice soft and sweet, turning to look back over your shoulder, batting your eyelashes for extra effect, “Please?” your voice lowered, dripping with desire, “I… I want you to come inside me, Piers.”

You couldn’t help but laugh when he immediately shot his hand down to fish out his cock, grumbling into your skin as he did so. You arched your back slightly, lifting your leg to get into position, breath stuttering when you felt his hot member flush against your bare ass.

“It should be easy… since you did such a good job already,” you cooed, shifting against him as he guided his cock to your entrance. Piers shuddered as he dragged the entirety of his aching erection across your pussy, and you gasped when his tip grazed your clit, still sensitive from your previous climax. He helped hold your leg aloft as he began pressing into you, squeezing your inner thigh as he slowly, carefully sank into your folds, his breath hot against the nape of your neck. Flames began to lick at the edges of your mind, within your chest, and across your lower regions as he pressed further, and you gasped as his head gave way to his shaft, tensing as he stretched you further than his fingers had before. Piers immediately froze.

“You alright?” he asked, his smooth, silky voice against your ear, helping you relax.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you reassured him, “It didn’t hurt, just caught me off-guard, is all.”

He hummed in response, and you smiled. Even in his sleep-addled state, he was still so attentive and careful with you, warmth blooming in your chest and traveling down between your legs as he continued to press inch by gentle inch, until he was finally sheathed inside of you.

The feeling of fullness sent a shudder clambering up your spine, your walls fluttering around him instinctively, feeling absolutely _weak_ when he groaned in response, his tired voice rich and husky as his breath fanned across the shell of your ear. Gods, you were already so hot and bothered for the _second_ time this morning. How the hell this musician always managed to turn you into a sopping wet mess was beyond you, but you were by no means about to complain.

There was something uniquely intimate about this position, despite not facing each other—his heated body pressed flush against your back, face buried into the crook of your neck, breathing in your scent as he sighed fondly at the absolute perfect feeling of his cock enveloped in your snug, tight heat. You laid together for a moment, simply basking in the sleepy atmosphere of the room, the morning sunshine filtering through the blinds, bouncing off the ceiling and bathing the room in a soothing glow. Piers’ breathing deepened, relaxing even further into you, and you wondered if he had somehow managed to fall asleep while rock-hard and fully inside of you. You were about to turn and look over your shoulder, but you gasped when he suddenly moved, pulling your leg further upwards and bending it closer to your side, hooking the crook of his elbow into the inside of your knee. You barely had enough time to appreciate the new position, when his long, slender forearm managed to reach perfectly between your legs, his middle finger pressing against your swollen clit. You whined, arching your back as he began to toy with the sensitive nub, your hips beginning to rock of their own accord.

Piers didn’t move just yet, choosing only to swirl his agile fingers around your quickly-soaking heat, reveling in the way you ground back against his cock, squeezing his shaft so sinfully with every sweep of his fingers over your throbbing clit. You couldn’t decide whether you wanted more of his tantalizing fingers or more his wonderfully stiff cock as your hips swirled, your heated breathing turning into desperate panting, shuddering when he licked a hot stripe up the column of your neck.

“ _Piers_ …” you moaned, lifting your arm and drawing a hand back through his hair, your nails scratching along his scalp, causing the other to groan softly into the crook of your neck.

“You’re so _good_ for me,” you praised, looking back over your shoulder, your beautifully debauched voice and heavily-lidded gaze tugging at his cock, as well as his heartstrings.

“I love you so mu- _uch!_ “ you gasped as his hips jolted, thrust shallow, yet unexpected, watching as his eyes squeezed shut, the rouge in his cheeks deepening in hue. You couldn’t help but smile, grinning so wide that your eyes crinkled.

“Piers…” you breathed, asking for his attention. He opened his eyes, bright, crystalline, and glossed over with a combination of sleepiness and arousal.

“ _I love youuu_ ,” you purred, giggling as he buried his warm face back into the crook of your neck.

“ _Stop_ …,” he groaned, his cock throbbing inside of you, transforming your laugh into a moan, “You’re gonna make me— _ah_ —‘m not gonna last, if ya keep sayin’ that,” he breathed deeply, steadying himself. Your heart swelled within your chest. You truly loved your sweet, caring, sappy musician so, so much.

Piers reigned in his own pleasure, focusing all of his energy on the finger circling your clit. You felt that familiar coil tighten deep within your gut, your orgasm an inevitability, torn between wanting to savor this moment for as long as possible, and succumbing to sweet euphoria. The way your voice grew louder and more strained, the way your entire body began to writhe, and the way the fluttering pressure around his cock became more frequent, told Piers how close you were to coming undone. The movements around your clit increased in intensity, one finger turning to two, then three, as he massaged your heat at a scorching pace, sending shockwaves through your body and setting your nerves ablaze.

Feeling that something was missing, you drew your hand back, tugging on your boyfriend’s hair. He raised his head with a groan, and you twisted your upper body around, pressing your lips against his own. It wasn’t the most comfortable position, but completely worth the effort once his tongue slipped past your lips. Everything built so nicely as you panted against his eager mouth, and when the pleasure boiled over, you were forced to break away as your entire body writhed in ecstasy. Piers watched, completely enraptured as your back lifted in a gorgeous arc, eyes screwed shut, face flushed, and head thrown back against the pillows, moaning his name like a prayer as pulses of warmth surged through your body. His breath hitched as you rode him through your climax, gasping as his hand returned to your thigh, gripping it for dear life as he began pounding into you. His thrusts were slow, deliberate, and powerful, fully indulging in the way you clenched so sweetly around him in your euphoria.

“ _Shit_ ,” he groaned, voice hot and heavy against your ear, “Keep tight, just like that— _good_ girl.”

You sighed at his praise, whimpering as the rhythm of his cock prolonged your orgasm.

“ _So_ fucking good—you feel so fucking good, I fucking love you so much,” he shuddered, voice ragged, practically babbling in his pleasure. You adored the way he came undone when he was close—praises, curses, and declarations of love tumbling freely from his lips as he completely lost himself in you. You rocked your hips back against him, matching his pace, biting your lip as you voluntarily clenched down around him to further draw out his orgasm.

“ _Shit!_ _Ahh_ —you’re so good, love, _fuck_ ‘m so close—!” he gasped in your ear, voice pitching in the most vulnerable, sexy way as he came, giving way to shameless groaning as he spilled inside of you. You shuddered at the feeling, almost embarrassed at how much you enjoyed being filled with his cum. It was a reminder of how good you were for him, and you couldn’t help but feel a special type of pride that you could make someone so beautiful, so kind, so talented, feel so good.

Piers panted for a few moments, before exhaling deeply, gently lowering your leg, moaning softly as he pulled out of you, making you shiver at the loss. You sighed as everything softened, muscles relaxing and body sinking into the mattress, the warm, hazy aura of the room tempting you into sleep. Despite your better judgement, you really didn’t want to move, let alone get out of bed, so you decided to save cleanup to future you, who would very much spend the entire time cursing present you. Piers seemed to agree, wrapping an arm around your waist, pulling you in and spooning you as he buried his face into the nape of your neck, breathing softly, dreamily, as he mumbled against you.

“Seriously love you so much…” he confessed, placing a soft kiss to your cooling skin, “…’m so lucky to ‘ave you…” his voice grew softer, slower, as he was lulled into sleep, “…wanna spend the rest of m’ life with you…”

You hummed happily, relaxing against the sheets, breathing in the scent of cotton and the lingering amber of his cologne, until you fully registered what he had said. Your eyes snapped open, contemplating whether you should ask for further elaboration, but as you felt his body fall limp, the rise and fall of his chest slow and steady against your back, you decided that conversation could wait for another day. For now, you chose to bask in the afterglow, allowing the warm, comforting presence of your blissfully snoozing boyfriend to pull you swiftly into dreamland.

“I love you, too,” you whispered, smiling to yourself, placing your hand over his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, requests are being taken over on my tumblr, sleepawaywriting! Also, let me know if you'd like me to have any sort of specific content warnings at the beginning of future chapters!

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to request something, please do so over on my tumblr (sleepawaywriting)! Requests will be open for the foreseeable future, but works might be added sparingly as a result!


End file.
